


this love is ungodly, not an ounce of suffering in it

by scandalous



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Coming Untouched, First Time Bottoming, Love, M/M, POV Hannibal Lecter, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Praise Kink, Sappy, Some Humor, Tenderness, Top Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:13:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25413736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalous/pseuds/scandalous
Summary: Hannibal has never been penetrated before.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 181
Collections: Froday Flash Fiction Little & Monthly Specials 2020, Prompt Table Challenge: Sexy and Kinky





	this love is ungodly, not an ounce of suffering in it

**Author's Note:**

> **sexy and kinky @ creativechallenges:** First Time Bottoming  
>  **fffc's 100th special:** evening
> 
> i am very gay and i am very tender. so i wrote this.
> 
> enjoy!

Hannibal really doesn't know how to broach this subject.

It feels like pulling teeth, to talk about having sex with Will. They are so close and so intimate, yet they both repel at the idea of having sex together. He doesn't know why — he could psychoanalyze it out of Will, maybe, something about shame and his upbringing and Baptist churches — but he doesn't know why _he_ is so nervous at the idea. He doesn't know himself as well as Will knows him, it seems.

Well… he actually knows exactly why he repels. But it shouldn't bother him, really, as he doesn't _need_ to do that. For all he knows, Will would be interested in bottoming for him. But maybe he wouldn't. He's really not sure, and the idea of bringing up how he's never been in the receiving end of penetrative sex feels like he may die. He's not accustomed to shame, and he never felt it necessary for any schemes to have said sex, so it just has never happened.

But he's fifty-two, and he's comfortable in being bisexual. He should get over himself, allow himself to get penetrated by the man he loves. But he can't manage to do that. The idea makes him nervous beyond belief, in a way nothing has ever made him nervous before. The idea is too good, though, the fantasies pulled from his brain at the idea of being on his back and Will on top of him too good to pass up.

"Will," he starts one day. The sun is setting, the colors filtering through the curtains. They've gotten into a good, comfortable cabin in Canada as they wait to figure out their next move. It has been three months since they were spit back out by the unforgiving ocean. "I wanted to, um, talk to you. About… sex."

Will blinks and looks up at him. "What about it?"

"There's something I have never done with anyone, that I would like to grant you the… _privilege_ of letting me experience it, for the first time."

He furrows his brows, confused. "And what is that?" he asks.

"I have never…" He swallows around the lump in his throat. He's ridiculously nervous. "I have never been penetrated before."

Will's eyes go almost comically wide. "You're _lying_ ," he exclaims.

"What? No, I am not, Will."

"No way you went around in Italy looking like _that_ back in the day and never got dicked down!" 

"Language," he chastises. "But… I have, in fact, never been penetrated. When I've had sex it's been mostly to manipulate people or to create an alibi, as it was with Alana, and the idea of being penetrated felt far too vulnerable. I wasn't a fan of the idea. So I avoided it. With my few male partners, I always was the one on the giving end. I got… _asked_ about it, sometimes, especially with what I looked like back then, but I always said no."

Will breaks out into a small smile, puts the book he was reading down before standing up. He walks up to Hannibal and kisses him on the lips, grabs his face with his hands ever so gently. 

"Hey," he says. "I'm not judging you. I get it. But if you want to, um, you know, get fucked—" he lets out a quiet laugh— "then I'm your man."

"You're already my man," Hannibal says, without thinking twice.

Will's cheeks go red. "Oh," he says softly. "I guess I am." He kisses him again. "But it's okay. Take your time, though, alright? It's, uh, it's a mess, your first time getting fucked."

"Got a lot of experience with that, Will?"

He shrugs. "A lot of men I've hooked up with always assume I'm a bottom. No idea why. The first time I bottomed I was like, twenty, and it was a _mess_ , mainly because the guy was a bit of an asshole, but if we do it right then I think it shouldn't hurt or anything."

"I do have a fair bit of experience with how to make it the least painful as possible, but now that I'm in the receiving end it's a completely new area for me." He leans in to kiss Will, deeply, caressing his cheek. "Thank you. That was the main reason I repelled from any of your attempts at having sex. I hope you understand."

"I do understand," he replies. "I understand you, Hannibal. I see you."

He hums softly at that, and wraps his arms around him. He feels safer around Will than he ever would with anyone else. Being seen is an incredible feeling— he almost gets off on it.

* * *

It should, in theory, be a simple concept. He will lay on his back, Will will finger him open, and then he will enter him. That's how it goes, that's how it will go. But the idea makes him too tense to think, so he has some of the horribly cheap wine Will shoplifted and tries his best to relax. 

The evening settles around them, and he's ready. The moon shows its face, and he's ready. At least he'd like to think he's ready. But he has to cross this threshold at one point, so he has to go for it.

He swallows around the lump in his throat as he follows Will's lead to the bedroom, stripping each other bare. He wills his hands into not shaking, as much as they want to. He's like a nervous teenager in a bad movie — shaking hands, a fear of disappointment (not of being disappointed but of disappointing his partner) so overwhelming it threatens to consume him whole.

"Are you alright?" Will asks for the hundredth time.

"Yes," he breathes out. "I'm alright. Quite alright, in fact." He sucks in a breath, counts to ten. "Let us just do this, Will."

"Of course," he says. "Tell me if you need something, okay? If you need to stop, anything at all. I won't question it."

He smiles at him. "I know, Will. Please, let us continue."

Will helps him settle on their bed and grabs the lubricant they got from the store, using a fake identity throughout and apparently no one had recognized them. It's scary, every time they go buy something, the adrenaline of maybe getting caught, of someone saying _hey, aren't those the murder husbands?_ It hasn't happened yet, though, and he's grateful for that. He quite likes Canada, anyway.

Hannibal draws in a breath and spreads his legs, mindlessly touches the blankets to keep a hold of himself. He may go a little crazy, like this, waiting for Will to _fuck_ him.

"Are you comfortable?" Will asks. "The most important thing is here for you to be relaxed. Are you relaxed?"

"You sound more like a psychiatrist every day," Hannibal snarks in lieu of answering. He lets out a sigh. "Yes, I'm relaxed, Will. I apologize for being defensive."

"Don't worry about it." He dribbles some lube onto his fingers before putting it back down on the nightstand and then looming over Hannibal. He pecks him on the lips as he smears some of it around his hole, warming it up beforehand. "Are you ready?"

He pauses. "Yes," he says softly.

"Good." Will smiles at him with all the affection in the world as he pushes a finger inside him.

"Oh," he groans at the sensation, immediately going lax. "That is… odd."

Will laughs. "Yes, it's an odd sensation the first couple times. Just tell me when I can keep going."

They stay in comfortable silence for a while before Hannibal finally says, "You can keep going."

Will does keep going. He pushes his finger further in and then pushes another one into him, crooking them and slowly starting to scissor them to open him up. It's a strange sensation, odd in all kinds of ways, but Hannibal has always liked odd— his cock twitches at the feeling of Will fingering him open, slowly starting to get hard at the attention.

And then Will rubs the pads of his fingers against his prostate.

He yelps, quietly, and his face flushes red as his cock immediately stands to attention. "Oh God," he breathes out. "That's—"

"That's your prostate, yes," Will says. "Would you like me to stimulate it more?"

"Yes." He sounds pathetic, and if he thought about it too much he'd be ashamed at the way he's lost all his grace and decorum just with a few flicks of Will's wrist. But he doesn't think about it for too long, simply mewls out another, "Yes."

Will obliges and applies more pressure. It makes Hannibal go crazy, his cock immediately getting harder as he moans. 

"You're so good for me, Hannibal," he says. "My love. You're doing so good for me. Are you ready for another finger?"

He nods, lets out a whimper. His person suit has been shed for a long time, now, but he feels even more bare when Will looks at him in this state. "Yes," he breathes out. "I'm — I'm ready, Will."

"Good," he praises. He pushes a third finger into him, and he keeps ever so slowly prepping him. He kisses him, peppers kisses across his face like stars, like love. He's so full of love he feels like he may explode. But he doesn't; he lets Will take care of him, the way he does— he presses against his prostate from time to time, getting him used to the feeling of his rear being occupied. He pauses for a second. "Are you ready for the real thing? It's no issue if you'd rather do it another time, Hannibal. Just tell me."

"I want you," he says. "I want you now, Will."

He lets out a soft little laugh, kisses him for the umpteenth time. He pulls his fingers out and Hannibal almost whines at the loss of contact, even though he knows they will be replaced with Will's length.

Will dribbles more lubricant over his hand and strokes himself with it, watches him carefully, eyeing him, making sure he's not uncomfortable. They're both bare around each other; there's no secrets. If either of them were uncomfortable the other would be able to tell, no words and very little body language in the way. They have a cryptophasia of their own.

"Okay." Will lets out a breath and presses the tip of his length against Hannibal. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, Will."

He pushes in; Hannibal lets out a little moan that borders on blissful. He tips his head back and whimpers, hips bucking up as he grabs at the blankets beneath him, desperate for some kind of leverage against the emotions he feels. He's never put any importance on the intimacy of sex, not until Will, not until Will penetrates him like this, grabbing at his waist, ever so gently plunging forward.

"Are you alright?" Will asks when he bottoms out, Hannibal's legs around his waist.

"Yes," he breathes. His face and his chest are both a faint shade of red, embarrassment at the _openness_ of this making them turn crimson under the evening light. "Keep— keep going, Will."

"Of course, Hannibal."

Will slowly starts fucking into him, not being too rough nor too gentle, knowing that Hannibal wouldn't want to afford himself that gentleness he hasn't afforded anyone else. He takes him at a normal pace, watching for any discomfort, eyes wide and face flushed as he works himself in and out of Hannibal. 

"You're doing so good," he praises. "So perfect for me."

Hannibal is painfully hard, but he doesn't think of leaning his hand over and getting himself off. He doesn't want his own touch— he wants Will's, Will's and no one else's. Not even his own will be enough; nothing else will ever be enough.

Will's thrusts slowly start to become less rhythmic as he fucks him, getting closer to the edge, teetering over it.

"So — ngh, so good for me," he pants out. "I'm so proud of you, Hannibal."

Hannibal comes.

It's a startling feeling, to come out of seemingly nowhere; his body tenses for a fraction of a second and then he spills over his own abdomen, eyes rolling back as orgasm wracks through him. He pants out, whimpers before clinging onto Will, the blush on his face and chest growing a few shades darker with embarrassment.

"Hey," Will shushes, "it's okay, it's okay. I'm close. Let me just take care of you, okay?"

"Yes," Hannibal whimpers.

He came because Will said he's proud of him. He can psychoanalyze that later, yell at himself later. All that comes now is relief as Will works himself inside him, until he releases, going stock-still as he fills him up. He breathes hard as he pulls out, and all Hannibal feels is contentment. Happiness. He feels like he's _whole_ , completed in a way he's never been before.

"So good for me," Will breathes out as he slumps next to him in their bed.

The evening has turned into night, the moonlight shining through the curtains.

Hannibal wraps himself around Will, tucks his head on the conjuction of his neck and his shoulder.

"I love you," he says. "What an evening this was."

Will manages a quiet laugh. He's as spent as Hannibal is. "What an evening this was, indeed," he agrees. He kisses the top of Hannibal's head. "Let me tuck you in."

"We're going to ruin the sheets," he protests, even though he's already getting up. His legs are shaking ever so slightly.

"Doesn't matter," Will says as he helps Hannibal into bed, quickly getting into bed right along with him. "Good night, Hannibal."

Hannibal looks at him like he's the world as he says, "Good night, Will."


End file.
